Updated 971214 - 980103

In Concert

Deep Beneath The Waves 67

The unreleased live album, recorded April + October 1963.
Includes the artwork planned for the official release.

A few images: Front cover, Back cover, Liner notes.

(In Concert liner notes)

Blowin' In The Wind
By Bob Dylan

One reason why I could never be a cop in this system under all
systems is that the persons I'd be bustin' would be committin' crimes
that ain't on any books yet - crimes that ain't on any records yet -
that nobody's got any laws ffor yet - Me an' a friend a mine slumped in
our seats an stared t the stage where two Negroes were well lit up an
singin' an actin' out dances that the prisoners do on the chain gangs -
their guitar player sat back inn the shadows on a perched up stool an'
played  the chords to go along with their unseen hammers swingin' - The
two singers wore gold striped silk red shirts with the buttons open
pretty low and nylon pants that were kinda tight - In between the songs
they sang they told jokes ... Negro jokes - jokes about Negroes an'
cowboys - jokes about Negroes an' bears - jokes about Negroes an'
Tennessee Williams - jokes about Negroes an' Negroes - After every punch
line the audience'd howl an' laugh madly an' guzzle down more beer t the
tune a their satisfied hearts poundin' with a happy-go-lucky beat - Then
the singer'd introduce the next song an all ears'd come t attention like
some kinda school was in session... "Black is the Color 'f My True
Love's Hair is an old slave song that we have brought up t date an
slightly arranged in a somewhat different style an we'd like t do it now
for..." I leaned back in my chair an stared at the ceilin' an said in my
head "I don't believe this" Then the lights dimmed an a sound pierced
the air an stayed there "Blaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
aaaakkkkkkk" I looked fast t the stage an all 'f a sudden a sweat broke
an both 'f the singers' faces an chests were streamin' an' drippin' with
fiery perspiration water - "i the color 'f my tarue love's Haaaaaaaaaaaa
aaaaaaaaaaaaaa aaaaaaaaaaaaaaiiiiiiiirrrrrrr rrrrr..........." 

I hummed my own tune in my head an chain smoked five cigarettes an'
when the people at the next table clapped I knew the soh was done - I
listened through the next Negro joke an' heard the audience howl an
somehow pictured the little girl up front tellin' her mother "Mother,
Negrroes aren't so bad, they make fun a themselves an' everythin'..."
They introduced their next song with a smile an words somethin' like
"This next song comes from the cotten fields 'f Alabama an it's called
Rosy... it's about a girl who... an' they sing it wwhen..." Then they
both paused an stood there with their eyes closed - the audience hushed
- the singers' faces started curlin' up in anger - they started
breathin' harder - th elights dimmed they both turned sideways with half
their faces glarin' in the light - they were almost pantin' when their
arms raised slowly above their heads an' came crashin' down with a
thunderous blow that shattered their knee caps an' in the same instant
second both 'f their vocies bloated out
oooooooooosseeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee Eeeee..........."

That tune lasted for about ten cigarettes an when it was over an' the
song was played out they bowed t all sides 'f the room in a drippin' wet
sweat an I could  picture the girl up front again sayin' t her mother
"Mother, Negroes don' wanna hurt anybody, they just have all that rhythm
an' stuff..." But this time I'd stare at the ceilin' This time it didn't
strike me so funny It didn't strike me funny one little bit For I
couldn't help but think about people like Ivan Donaldson down in
Danville - An' I started thinkin' about Jim Foreman who I stood next t
on a Mississippi sound truck an watched his face while he told the
people why they gotta go vote- I started thinkin' about John Lewis whose
speech was cut down in Washington cause some people were afraid t speak
on the same platform with somebody who could actually think t say "We
shall march thru the South like Sherman's Army" - I started
thinkin'about Mrs. McGee who risked her only life t lend her dusty dried
out faarm land down on Highway 82 outside 'f Greenwood for a
registration rally - I thought about Jimmy Travis who got shot up by
unknown rifles aimin' for Bob Moses - An I thought about Bob Moses who's
labeled a "dangerous outsider an agitator" every place from Clarcksdale
t Greenville t Hattiesburg t Jackson - I thought about beautiful Bernice
an the rest a the Freedom Singers who could sweat jus' as hard an' move
their bodies jus' as good but know that they don' have t - I started
thinkin' about hundreds 'f headlines that tell stories like they were
happenin' in a far away country  on tell 'm in the kinda way t make
people sit around analizin' an' discussin' an' philosophizin' an
theorizin' like some kinda college sociology problem was takin' place
an' nothin' more - I thought about Miles Davis 
An MAvis Staples
An Paul Robeson
An Diana Sands
An James Baldwin
But WORSE 'N THAT... I thought about the petty thief - the poor petty
thief who gets nailed ffor robbin' a jewelry store an' all he wanted t
do was pawn a watch so his wife an kids could get better - The poor
petty criminal who makes his statement t the world by acceptin' time out
a his life for tryin' t rob his way out 'f a rut - The poor petty robber
who never hits the entertainment section - the headline section - the
stockmarket section - the classified section - he don' even make the
funny paage section - I looked back t the stage where the lights were
dimmin' again an' I asked the mirror in my mind... "What's this word,
criminal anyway?" "Who's the biggest criminal?" "Who distorts the most
about the world?" "Who covers up the most about the way things really
are?" "Who shows more people in more ways the way things really ain't?"
"Who does the most damaage t people's heads?" "Who sets more people's
minds up so that anybody can come along an tell 'm anythin' an they'll
believe it?" Who tells the most people that in a time 'f proudness
there's nothin' a be proud 'f?" An all 'f a sudden I could see an
imaginary world in which  I was a cop - An I knew what I'd do my first
night on the beat - I'd pick up my badge at the station an' head out
right away for this place I was sittin' - I'd be very cool as I walked
slowly t the door -
Then I'd crash through with my handcuffs clangin'... I'd bulldoze
through the chairs an' tables shoutin' with my finger pointin' an'my gun

Then I'd stand 'm against the wall an frisk 'm 'f their weapons 'f nylon
clothes - ssnap the cuffs on - send for squad car - an hang a sign
around their heads so innocent people wouldn't get too near...

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